The Heart Line
by Jennatem
Summary: Panic, fear, and pain drove him from his home. He could never go back. No one would understand. Edward left Bella behind. The wolves defeated Laurent, Riley and a hand-full of newborns, but Victoria gained her prize. Bella has been declared dead. She wishes she was. Can two broken lives mend one another? M for now may drop later.
1. Chapter 1

**The Heart Line**

The flame haired monster never saw him coming. Her recent kill was still pouring forth crimson life when he swiftly tore the vampire's head from her body. He disassembled her stone corpse easily and watched in disgust as the limbs wriggled in the dirt. He started a small fire with long practiced ease and watched as her pyre glowed brilliantly against the starlit fall sky. Stumbling upon her had happened purely by chance, but when his eyes locked on her his instincts demanded action. This one was not the first, and hopefully she wouldn't be the last. Killing her had been exhilarating, and he wanted more. He decided to trace her trail. Perhaps there were more, she may have been living with others. He had no way of knowing she would be missed by no one.

Through miles of dense forest and across a narrow mountain fed river he traced her careless tracks. He began to suspect her to have been alone, undisturbed, for quite some time to become so thoughtless, most would have created false trails or varied their movements from ground to trees. He tracked relentlessly throughout the night. What else did he have to occupy his time? His was a lonely existence and he lived it by choice. He relied on no one, for he had no one. His mind flashed back through the years, back to a time when the world made sense, a time before be became what he was. But it had happened. He had left and never looked back. Who would have understood anyway?

His rambling thoughts ground to a halt when he reached the base of a small mountain. Up its jagged side he could clearly trace the red-headed female's scent, but there was something else. Another scent, a human scent? A rough path, gouged over time by dragging an item of substantial size repeatedly up the side of the mountain, led him to an open cavity in the solid wall of rock. Inside the smell was terrible. It stank of dirt and filth, old blood and rot. He almost turned away, but his movement was arrested by the sounds which reached his keen ears. There in the cave beat a weak heart, accompanied by the grating sound of rasping breath. Curiosity piqued, he stepped hesitantly into the stale atmosphere. As he drew closer it became clear that the heartbeat belonged to a young woman. He crouched down beside her still form, amazed and disgusted in equal measure. The girl was very obviously naked, but her body was so battered that her nudity was not the first thing that drew one's focus. Long lacerations ran the length of her form, mostly from the waist down. His mind quickly connected the abrasions to the path he'd just encountered and realized that it was her body that had marked the landscape. She was also grossly emaciated. Every bone jutted dramatically out of thin pale skin. He looked around the small space and saw a multitude of carcasses littering the floor. Rats, rabbits, something that looked like it might have been a squirrel, all scraped to the bone by human teeth. Had she been living off of raw wild animals? Dark mottled bruises covered the other many cuts and scrapes adorning her frame. He suspected her hair was brown, though it was impossible to tell through the grime that matted and stuck the strands together into something resembling rudimentary dreadlocks.

He sighed, what the hell was he supposed to do with a human woman? He couldn't just leave her here to die, but what would happen if he took her somewhere? Would she try to tell people she had been held prisoner by a vampire? That would go over well. She'd be hauled off to a mental institution before she finished the sentence, "No, they really sparkle in the sun!" He would take her to his secluded home and see what, if anything, he could do for her. Having made his decision, he reached out to touch her arm to see if she would wake. Nothing. No change in respiration, heart rate, nothing. Hoping she wouldn't wake when he moved her, he slowly slid his hands under her gaunt frame and tucked her against his strong chest. It felt good to hold her, though he felt a tiny bit depraved for even having the thought. He must have been alone far too long. Yes, that was it, too long without human companionship. He made his was carefully down the mountain path, disheartened by the way her limp limbs wobbled and flapped.

It took a couple of hours to reach his hideaway, moving slowly as he was. At no time during the journey did she show any sign of waking. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when his cabin came into view. He shifted her much-too-light body slightly to work the door open then stepped into the welcome darkness. A small fire in the hearth was the only illumination in the one room cabin. It was a simple but sturdy structure, built with his own two hands when he decided to settle here some time ago. It was nothing special, but it was his sanctuary. He lived mostly off the land. Material possesions meant little to him. Scratching his head a moment later, he did think that it would be nice if he had access to some clothes for her to wear, but he'd have to see about that later. Right now she would stick to whatever she wore, so the point was moot.

He draped some tanned animal hides out on the floor and eased her onto them as gently as he was able. He cringed as some of the congealing sores on her back peeled away from his arms. Grabbing a rudely carved bowl he strode purposefully out of the cabin to the stream that cut through the land a few yards away. Once back inside, he peered around, finally finding what he needed next - a scrap of what used to be one of his shirts. Mind fixed firmly on the task ahead, he began cleaning her methodically, checking each area he worked on and cataloging the injuries uncovered. He started with her face. Dark circles lined the deep depressions around her eyes and a livid hand print marked her right cheek. Her lips were dry and cracked. The gauntness of her face made it almost impossible to tell what she would have looked like at a healthy body weight. Bruises liberally marked her slender neck, finger marks clearly discernible. Her left shoulder was dislocated and he honestly began to doubt that she would survive the night when she failed to react to him resetting it. He thought of what he knew how to cook that she would possibly be able to consume as he cleaned her upper torso as quickly as possible. He forced himself to slow down and pay more attention to the girl when he discovered that some of her ribs were cracked. He cleaned that area extra gently, careful not to push on the damaged ribs. He continued down her body, shaking his head in disgust at the extent of the damage. Her thighs and shins were practically shredded, giving him the impression that she had been dragged by her hair, leaving her legs to take the brunt of the abuse of the unforgiving terrain.

After finishing both legs and refilling the bowl with clean water twice more, he moved to the other side of her body, intending to clean her right arm before flipping her to do her back. He dragged the cloth over her shoulder, revealing more frighteningly pale flesh, dipped the rag again and removed more dirt from her upper arm and elbow. He froze when his work uncovered a very distinctive mark on her right wrist. It made fury roll through him to see the scar, even as it made him wonder how she was still living - well technically living, but only just. He glared at the mark as if he could remove its existence by pure malice alone. It was a shiny whitish silver, chilly under the pad of his thumb. The scar showed in perfect detail where two rows of teeth, both upper and lower, had pierced her flesh, and he traced the faint ribbons of silver that creeped from the edges, highlighting the path of delicate veins burned forever by immortal poison. Knowing he would have to wait indefinitely for that story, he finished her hand and rolled her slowly onto her stomach before wincing as he looked over her back. She appeared to have been lashed, kicked, and were those burns? He was starting to regret killing the red-head so fast. Looks like she might have deserved a little torture herself. Meticulously he worked over the planes of her back, it had far more debris encrusted within the sores, considering she had been lying on her back when he discovered her. He was thankful that she was unconscious through all the discomfort he knew he was causing her, but would she ever wake?

After cleaning and inspecting more nooks and crannies than he would have ever been allowed to approach if she had been conscious, he stepped back and looked her over. She was clean now, but that only served to bring attention to how massively disgusting her hair was. He made another trip to the stream and worked on one slow section at a time to remove the long encrusted grime from her waist length hair. It was, in fact, brown he discovered and surprisingly soft given its original state. He lost count of how many times he had to refill his bowl with clean water, but when he finished he was very satisfied with the results. Sacrificing one of his few decent shirts, he tore away some strips and lightly bound her ribs to help keep them stable. Then he took another large animal hide and tucked it lightly around her before leaving the cabin once again, this time to catch her something for dinner.

Rabbit boiling merrily in a pot over the fire, he turned his attention once more to the girl. He was relieved to see that most all of her injuries had formed light scabs throughout the course of the day. Clothing would treat her skin much better now. Having her wake up disoriented, in pain, and naked of all things, in a strange place was not at the top of his priority list. He brought over another shirt, a black tee - plenty big enough to be a short dress on her tiny figure - and eased it over her head, pulling her pile of hair through then shimmying it down, mere increments at a time, pausing at the proper height to feed her limp arms through the holes. Finally her body was covered to his satisfaction and he re-wrapped her in the hide blanket.

Hours passed and he did nothing but stare at the girl and wonder. He had so many questions, but would she even be in any state to answer them? Again he questioned just what he had gotten himself into. He had no business trying to look after the girl, but if not him, then who? He thought perhaps in the coming days he might have to chance a venture into civilization. If he could be sure she knew that no one would believe what kind of creature had abducted her, she could possibly have a home to return to. Home, something he would never have again, just a lonely existence in seclusion. It was better that way. If it hadn't been such a long time since he'd lost control, he would have felt that perhaps the girl was in just as much danger with him as with the she-demon he liberated her from. Screams cut off by a wet gurgle and a thump on the floor assaulted his memory. There was so much blood, it painted the walls, and then it was over.

Once the rabbit had cooked through and produced a broth, he ladled up a bit and crossed the room to sit beside the girl's head. He had no idea if this was going to work, but he felt like it needed to be tried. Slowly and carefully he pulled her into a reclining position, scooting behind her back so that her weight could lay on his chest. He then raised the bowl to her lips, only allowing the slightest splash to wet them. Nothing. Dammit! She would die on him for sure if he couldn't feed her! He tried again, this time he pulled her lower lip open a fraction with his free thumb and dribbled the warm liquid inside her mouth. A jolt of satisfaction surged through him when either the taste, the wet, or the warmth prompted her to swallow. A moment later her tongue prodded her lip as if searching out the source of nourishment. He tipped the bowl slowly once more, noticing her lips forming lightly around the edges of the bowl as she sipped weakly at the offering. The pair continued on like this for some minutes, but nowhere near enough broth had been consumed when her mouth went lax once more. Her head, which had been straining toward the bowl, gave up its struggle and she was deeply asleep once more. He returned her to the impromptu bed and served himself a portion before turning in for the night.

He was roused from his slumber by a quiet keening noise. Through the fog of sleep he didn't immediately realize what he was hearing. But as his senses slowly returned to him he sucked in a sharp breath and looked to the girl. She had tears streaming from her closed lids. High pitched whines tore from her throat, and he thought his heart might have broken from the mere sound of her distress. He crossed the room quickly, eased down beside her, and replaced her covering, which had slipped off at some point during the night. Her breaths were stuttered and she was visibly shivering. Not knowing how she would react he tentatively took her hand in his, startling slightly when she instantly grabbed on and squeezed with a force he wouldn't have thought her capable of exerting."Warm" she whispered, barely a breath in the air, but he heard her loud and clear. "I'm so sorry" she said. "I was stupid Jake. It was my fault, not yours." He wondered who Jake was, her boyfriend, brother? "So cold, Jake." She mumbled, turning her face toward him. With a small shrug he stretched his long frame against hers, offering his warmth. A contented sigh passed her lips and she worked her face into his neck before she was silent and still once more. He watched over her until the wee hours of the morning, when sleep caught him again. He didn't notice when panicked brown eyes snapped open beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke to a small screech as the slightly rusted cabin door knob twisted. The girl was pulling at it frantically, failing in her panic to notice the extra bolt almost a foot above her head. He rose from the floor, which caught her attention. She jerked her hand from the knob as if it had burned her and sat abruptly, curling herself into a tight ball.

Damn it. He thought, as he knelt a few feet away, plenty close enough to hear her steady chant of "no, no, no, no, no."

"Hey, its ok. Everything's gonna be ok." He told her lamely, doubting the pathetic attempt would make her feel better in the slightest. She did stop murmuring, so he counted it as a small victory and kept talking. "I found you yesterday and brought you here to get you cleaned and patched up a little. Your shoulder was dislocated, so I re-set it. A few of your ribs needed wrapping too."

He started to inch closer, but paused when she began shaking her head violently, nearly giving him whiplash just from witnessing the motion. "I'm not going to hurt you." He assured her, but the words didn't calm her in the slightest. Her wild eyes searched desperately about the small room through her disheveled curtain of hair.

Suddenly, her hand shot out and grabbed the handle of a cast iron skillet from a low shelf in the cabinet by the front door. Before he even began to wonder what she wanted with it, she had flung the pan with unerring accuracy, causing him to see stars for a moment when the insanely hard metal connected with his head.

A shot like that could have killed some people, knocked others out and provided them with a side order of concussion, but him - it just pissed him off.

"What the hell was that for?" He roared, to which she responded by immediately bursting into wailing tears.

"Dammit woman, I already told you I'm not gonna hurt you." He reiterated once more, his anger quickly deflating in the wake of her escalating fear. He winced as he rubbed the large bump on his abused skull.

"I have to go, I have to go, you have to let me go, need to go back, I have to go back!" She was bordering on sounding deranged, and he raised an incredulous brow.

"You want to go back there?" He deadpanned. There was no way he was letting her anywhere near that fetid hole he found her in.

She nodded fervently though she kept her chin down and arms locked around her bony knees.

Ok, so the chick's got some issues, not surprising with her general condition, but..."You do know that sounds a little nuts right?," he couldn't stop himself from blurting. "You were well on you way to starving to death, beaten black and blue and dragged far enough across the mountain to rip half the skin off your legs. Why would you even _think_ about going back?"

She grew more frantic the moment she processed his resistance to her plan. Her body began to tremble and she resumed her protests.

"Have to go, have to go. She'll kill them all." The girl was now rocking back and forth, gripping the ends of her hair in white-knuckled fists. "She promised. She'll kill them all."

"The leech?" He asked, with narrowed eyes. So the dead bitch had kept the girl prisoner with threats against others, probably the chick's friends and family.

His question shocked her into silence and her restless movements abruptly ceased.

"Is the red-head the one who threatened to kill them?" He prodded after receiving no answer.

"Yes." The bony and likely mentally unstable girl whispered through her hair.

"Then you're not going back." He informed her bluntly. "Bitch is dead. I killed her."

The girl's eyes flew wide. "No! She's not dead! You can't kill her! You don't understand!" The girl shouted through her fortress of knees and hair.

"I think it's you that's mistaken missy," he fired back. "I toasted her ass and did a little happy dance around the purple plumes pouring off her bonfire."

The fight visibly left her after hearing his description, even though she remained protectively curled.

"She's really dead?" The girl asked weakly, and then promptly dissolved into tears.

He cringed, he didn't know what to do with an emotional woman. He had the urge to comfort her the way he had during the night, but he doubted he would get the same reaction in the daytime, her being conscious and all that. At a loss, he rose to warm her some of the left-over broth. The movement startled her once more and she clenched her body tight.

"I'm just getting you some food, try to calm down a little, yeah?"

"You'll let me go?" She asked quietly.

He nodded from his position by the fire. "When you can leave on your own steam I'll show you to the nearest town if that's what you want. But right now you're in no condition to go anywhere and I... well I would rather avoid dealing with any others, if at all possible."

"You don't...want anything from me?" She asked in a small voice.

He had no clue what she was getting at. "Huh?"

"Well when I woke up..."

"Oh! No!" He almost shouted when he caught her meaning. "No." He repeated seriously. "You were crying and shaking in your sleep so I was just trying to help and you said you were cold." He explained, tripping over his words. "I swear I was just trying to help."

He wasn't sure if she believed him.

"Here." He said, as he lowered the bowl of warmed broth. "Eat as much as you can. It's probably not the best, but it's all I've got."

The girl silently took the bowl and raised it to her mouth taking a few ginger sips. "Thank you." She murmured before returning to her broth.

OoOoOoO

Days passed, and while she was still slinking around the cabin like a skittish animal, always keeping hidden inside her hair and seldom speaking, she did slowly begin adapting to his quiet presence. He knew enough from what he had seen to know she probably didn't want to talk about it, so he left her to her silence.

Two more nights were interrupted by her nightmares, though she never woke and she never commented on his presence beside her the morning after. He heard the name Jacob often, mixed with apologies. Once he heard her speak the name Charlie.

Finally, the morning of the fourth day, he was forced to broach the subject of hygiene. He'd thought she would seek out means of cleaning herself, but she never said a word. So as tactfully as he could manage, he asked her if she would like to bathe off in the stream. Apparently it was the wrong damn question to ask.

She began shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth. "No, no, please." She whispered as she plastered herself into a corner. He tilted his head, trying to figure out what her problem was.

"Look, I don't care. It was just a suggestion. I thought you would be more comfortable if you were clean. Plus, it's better for your sores to stay clean."

"I...she...the water, under the water." The girl chattered out between her teeth.

An ugly suspicion hit him like a slap in the face.

"She held you under the water?"

A nod.

"Often?"

"Whenever she said I was too filthy to tolerate anymore." The girl whispered.

Dammit! He really wished he hadn't killed the bitch immediately.

"Ok, let's try this," he suggested, "I'll fill a basin and give you some privacy. You can take care of things and just knock on one of the windows when you're done."

Without waiting for a reply, he went to fetch her some water and a suitable scrap of cloth to wash with. He set them on the short counter near the fire and walked back outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

What was he doing with this girl? She barely spoke, she was plagued by nightmares, malnourished, and still injured. She wouldn't even look him in the face! He knew he should take her into town, but he didn't want to leave her. He felt he needed to personally see to her safety. And there was no way he could go back.

He growled in frustration and kicked at a clod of offending grass. She needed more than he could give her, he was almost certain, but he didn't want her mistreated due to her belief in beings that were supposed to be imaginary. Somehow, he would have to get her talking. Maybe once she opened up, he could judge her grasp of what had happened to her and her understanding of just how important it was that she never tell anyone the truth.

He made his way back inside after hearing her tap-tap-tap on the window. She looked to be in a little better spirits. He knew he always felt better clean.

"I'm sorry I don't have any shampoo or anything for you, it's been just me here for years." He told her, wondering if he had enough money left to get her some personal care items. He occasionally took odd jobs in cities far enough out that no one knew him - jobs that paid cash for muscle. He walked over to the corner where his own palette lay and lifted the edge enough to find a worn, yellowed envelope. It should be enough, he decided after counting the meager contents, but it would take the rest of what he had right now.

"Make me a list of the things you need along with sizes if you know them. I've got a little bit of money left, so I should be able to get you some basic clothes and toiletries."

He sat down and leaned against the wall while she obediently scratched out her list. He was feeling itchy and tense from staying inside for so many days and not letting himself loose.

The trip to town would give him a chance to stretch his legs.

"I don't know what size," she told him, soft spoken as always, "I wasn't like this when she...I used to be bigger."

"I'll just eyeball it then. Don't worry about it. Would you mind if I..." He trailed off, not sure how to phrase his request.

"What?" She asked suspiciously.

"Well it might help me if I could compare sizes" he spit out quickly, holding his hands up in a vague approximation of her waist size.

"Oh."

"Never mind, its not "

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah."

He took a deep breath and approached her slowly, trying to look unthreatening, which was near to impossible due to their general size differences. She was all of 5 feet 3 inches if he was being generous, and he was well over 6 feet, though he didn't know his exact height. He lifted his arms and allowed his hands to gently circle her waist, hoping he could find a way soon to get more meat on her bones as he took note of how far his fingers overlapped each other. He slid his hands slightly lower, gauging the area where her hip bones flared, again making note of the width within the circle of his hands.

He cleared his throat as he thought about attempting to use the same measuring system up top.

Nope.

Not gonna happen.

I can get her something stretchy. He decided. He was just NOT going there.

She released a breath when he stepped away to check over the rest of the list. There wasn't much on it.

"This it?"

She nodded.

"Ok then, I'll be gone most of the day, but I'll for sure be back before dark," he told her, only to see the she was trembling again with her arms wrapped tightly around her bony torso.

He was afraid she would react badly that part. Truth be told, he didn't want to leave her any more than she didn't want to be left alone.

"I can't take you with me." He told her softly. First of all, she was wearing nothing but a shirt, but second and more importantly, she couldn't see how he meant to travel.

Maybe he could... No, someone might recognize him. But the trip there WOULD be much faster. He sighed. "I can shop closer this one time, I guess. It would get me back in a couple of hours. Would that be better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You'll be safe here. I'll hurry back ok?"

"Ok."

Once he was well within the trees he stripped off his clothes, placed them in the small canvas duffel he brought for the trip and burst into a massive wolf in the blink of an eye.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he settled into what sometimes felt to him like his true form. At first he had hated it, the beast that had taken over his body. Now it was an old friend that brought him peace and settled his being. He took the duffel strap between his teeth and stretched out into a sprint. It felt so good to run like this! He loved the speed and the freedom.

This course would take him into Port Angeles. A town far too close to his former home for his tastes, but he needed to get back to the girl.

Trees zipped by and animals fled from him. He paid them no mind, set as he was on reaching his destination quickly. As he neared the town the tree cover grew too thin for complete concealment so he paused his journey long enough to shift back into human form and re-dress. He looped the duffel across a shoulder with the body of the bag stretched diagonally across his back.

The town had changed dramatically since the last time he was here. Still, he was able to locate a low cost superstore with little effort.

Inside, he stopped his squeaky cart in the shoe department first, picking up what he considered to be a non-offensive colored sneaker that seemed to be fairly well constructed. Next, he grabbed her a pack of basic calf length socks. He turned onto the next aisle and felt his stomach drop.

Underwear.

Great. Just. Great.

He stared at the massive wall of underthings in multitudes of styles, cuts, colors, fabrics, and realized he had no clue what so ever to choose for the girl. He lowered his head and rubbed his temples firmly, trying in vain to discourage the headache that was rapidly forming. He searched once more, trying to find something simple, but he was beginning to feel like a pervert standing alone in the ladies panty aisle.

A small laugh to his right startled him and he jumped before he could stop the reaction.

"I'm sorry." The young woman said sincerely. "I didn't mean to disturb you. You just look so lost."

"I am." He replied mirthlessly.

"Would you like some help?" She asked tentatively.

He was just about to respond in the negative, but when he turned and laid eyes on her the words died on his lips. She was beautiful, there was no doubt. Her shining black hair and intelligent dark eyes were stunning complements to her rich native skin. But traveling down the right side of her face from hairline to chin were ragged scars, scars reminiscent of claw marks that pulled at the corner of her eye and twisted the outer line of her lips into a slight permanent frown.

He cleared his throat and answered instead, "I have no idea what to get."

She smiled reassuringly. "Well, lets see what we can figure out. Do you know what size?"

He grimaced. "She's been...sick," he hedged. "She's lost a lot of weight, and needs new things. She's gotten very small, like this," he showed her, forming his hands into the rough shape of the girl's waist.

"Hmm, well let me take a quick look at these measurements." She grabbed one of the packages out of the many labeled - cotton bikini. "These might still be a bit big if she really is that tiny, but they're probably the closest she'll get."

The woman looked over into his basket, eyeing the socks and shoes already inside. "So, you're getting her set up with everything then?"

He nodded, looking down on the piece of paper in his grip and resigning himself to more tortuous shopping, when - to his surprise - she offered to help him with the rest of his list. He shrugged and told her he would be grateful if she was sure she had the time.

"Wait right here," his new shopping assistant ordered gently. "I'm just going to grab her something on the next aisle over."

He did as he was told, and when the woman reappeared she was carrying a few bras. He felt like his face might burn off, but she ignored his discomfort and informed him simply that they were a style suitable for a range of sizes and should be very comfortable, before dropping them unceremoniously into the cart.

Then she led him into women's apparel after verifying that his "friend" was most likely interested in comfortable clothing due to her "illness". She effortlessly picked him out a few pairs of conservatively colored ladies lounge pants and soft knit shirts.

From there, they went to the personal care section where he picked up some soap, deodorant, shampoo, a pack of elastic hair ties, a comb that he switched for a brush when the woman - Emily she said her name was - suggested it was better for the long thick hair he had mentioned his "friend" having.

While he was choosing a toothbrush and toothpaste, he didn't figure the girl would want to use twigs to clean her teeth like he was accustomed to, Emily disappeared again for a moment, returning with a package of, his face burned again, disposable feminine hygiene products.

She gave him a small knowing smile and continued on. "Does she need a razor?"

A dark look crossed his face that Emily did not miss. His mind was replaying the image of her torn and battered legs. "Her legs are...no I'm not sure she will need them. I don't know."

Pursing her lips, Emily nodded. "Well maybe take these just in case," she said indicating a small package of inexpensive disposable razors. "That way she will have them if she needs them."

This sounded like a good idea, so he took the package and placed it on the ever growing pile. He was nearing his max for the trip, that was for certain.

He thanked Emily sincerely for her help and was about to head for the checkout when he thought to ask, "You wouldn't happen to know of anything that would help her put on weight pretty quickly would you?"

She looked thoughtful for just a moment before steering him to the grocery section and pointing out a six pack of nutritional supplement drinks. He frowned when he looked at the price and shook his head, they were too expensive.

"They'll have to wait for another time." he spoke quietly, hoping that he would be able to find a way to care for the girl the way she needed.

Emily placed a small hand on his arm. "It's none of my business, but are you two in a good situation? Do you have enough to eat?" She asked, as delicately as she was able.

For a moment anger flared within him, causing to answer more harshly than he intended. "I can hunt and get the rest from my garden. I _can_ take care of her," he insisted sharply. Although, who he was speaking to, himself or Emily, he wasn't certain.

"I'm positive you can." She told him seriously, with a stern look on her face that made him feel chastised for being so rude. "What you need to know," she continued, "is that you don't have to do it alone."

As he absorbed her words she reached into her purse and located a pen. She confiscated his shopping list and jotted down a phone number and address before returning the paper. He looked sadly over the information written so innocently in plain black letters. He knew immediately after seeing the location he could never take her up on her kind offer. He would not be welcome there.

"Thank you," he forced himself to reply "I'll remember that." Then he walked away.

He was outside the store loading the duffel when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His whole body screamed that there was something dangerous nearby. He scanned the area and spotted Emily walking out into the parking lot.

About 10 spaces into the lot stood a very tall, muscular, russet skinned man leaning casually on the side of an older model black sedan. He telegraphed power and danger and he was staring at Emily intensely. His duffel hit the ground with a thud as he prepared to intercept Emily before she reached the man. But just before he broke into a run, she looked up at the powerful man and squealed happily. "Sam!" She exclaimed, and he watched as she quickened her pace until she was close enough to be snatched up into a loving embrace and looked on as the man placed feather light kisses across her ruined face. Emily was safe. He picked up his duffel and headed home.

OoOoOoO

"I came across a new scent today."

"Oh?"

"It was a wolf, I'm positive, but he's not one of the pack. I followed the trail."

"Sam! You didn't!"

"What? It led to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I didn't get close enough to see if anyone was home, but I'm pretty sure I heard a heartbeat. I had traced the scent into Port Angeles when I ran into you and figured I would follow up on him later."

"Sam, I met him."

"Who?"

"The wolf, Sam! I think you need to leave him be. He seems to have enough going on right now, and he might not appreciate outside interference."

"What are you talking about Emily? What's going on?"

"Well, I saw him in the women's underwear section of all places. I knew he was a wolf the moment I got within two feet of him. You're all mobile furnaces." She winked at her fiancé. "He looked so lost I felt bad for him and helped him shop."

"What? Why?"

"I found out he was there trying to find his lady friend all new clothes, and I mean everything Sam. He said she's been sick and lost weight, but the look on his face when he thought about her Sam, it was awful. It reminded me of the look you had when you...when I was hurt."

Sam's eyes flew wide. "You think he hurt her? What if she needs more help?"

"There's more. I gave him our number and address. I told him he didn't have to take care of everything on his own. He looked receptive until he read the address. I think he's familiar with La Push. He closed down after that and left."

"So you think he's from around here?"

"He's about the right age. He could be the boy who disappeared years ago. You know, the one who was never found after his mother was mauled by a bear."

As soon as the words left her lips they both realized exactly what she had just said.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I've been so beaten up by RL lately that I completely forgot I had this chapter finished. Its been sitting there waiting for a couple of weeks now. Bad author!

* * *

**The Heart Line Chapter 3**

He grew more anxious the closer he got to home. The scent trail he crossed worried him. It was so familiar.

Like him.

Could there be more giant wolves out there? What if there were? Should he consider them a threat?

He made better time than he ever had, tearing through the forest like he had the devil at his tail. What if something had happened to the girl while he was away? It was his job to take care of her now. He burst into the clearing surrounding his cabin and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the girl still inside, her beating at a steady rhythm. Remembering himself, he backed into the tree cover and changed back.

When he pushed open the door he was hit by a wrecking ball of quivering limbs and massive hair. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms loosely around her delicate frame, and started making soft shushing noises. He raised a hand to lightly scratch the back of her head, hoping the motion would calm her. Her quaking did begin to lessen, so he pulled her further into the cabin, never dropping his embrace, and closed the door behind him.

If he were honest with himself, the contact served to drive the remainder of his nerves away as well. "Did anything happen while I was gone?" He asked after she pulled away from him, muttering a quick apology.

She absently shook her head. "No. I was just...afraid." She admitted lowly. He understood. If she wasn't flighty after what she'd been through, he'd wonder about her sanity.

"Well, I'm back now, so let's see if you like your trophies." With that, he plopped the full bag at her feet and she settled onto the floor to dig into its depths.

"You really didn't have to do all this." She murmured, lovingly fingering the soft cotton clothing he'd brought. "Thank you."

He scratched the back of his neck, uneasy with her earnest words. What he'd given her was nothing compared to what she deserved. All those things he'd lived without, never caring to provide for himself, he was beginning to want to be able to give to her. But that was a dream doomed to failure. It couldn't work that way. Not cursed as he was. He would be found out if he spent too much time around humans. But what of the other? The one he scented just today. Did he live alone as well, or did he have some way of supporting a normal, well semi-normal life? "

"Oh, perfect!" She exclaimed reverently, still using a subdued tone even though he could tell she was pleased when she came across the brush and elastic bands. She snatched them out of the bag and immediately set to work on the rat's nest of hair bunched on her head. She winced when the brush got hung up in a particularly nasty tangle matted on the back of her head. "Wait! Wait! Let me help," he insisted, feeling sorry for her scalp as she tugged mercilessly on the strands trying to break the brush free of its confines. He crossed his legs as he took a seat behind her and began patiently releasing the trapped implement. She did't protest when, after loosing the brush, he began at the very tips of her hair, slowly detangling and smoothing her hair as he went. The action seemed to calm her in fact, so he tried for some conversation with his mystery girl.

"So," He began lamely. "I realized while I was out, that I don't even know your name. I'm Paul by the way, sorry for not thinking to tell you earler."

She huffed out a small laugh. "It hadn't even occurred to me to ask. I'm Bella."

"Bella." He repeated, trying the name. He liked it. It was simple and pretty. He continued his work and the strokes of the brush became longer and smoother as he cleared more of the tangles out of the way. "I've lived here for six years," he told her next. "I left home when I was 15 and just wandered. I didn't have anywhere to go. But I got tired of keeping up temporary shelters and started building this place a year later."

"You've been alone for seven years?" She gasped, apparently shocked by his blunt revelation. "Yeah, I take odd jobs where I can find them. I've always been pretty strong. I saved up and bought materials when I could find them cheap and got to work."

His efforts at breaking the ice were rewarded when she offered him a tidbit of information in return."I moved to forks in 2005. I had just graduated when, when..."

"I know." He told her. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to."

"I don't even know how long I was gone." She said, her voice wavering slightly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to ease her distress.

"When did you graduate?" He asked gently.

"June 2006. It was barely a couple of weeks later when she came."

Paul grimaced at the thought of Bella being kept in such poor conditions for that length of time. He'd seen the date, along with the current temperature, flashing on a sign on his way into Port Angeles. He swallowed to clear the lump in his throat, and despite his efforts, his words still came out hoarse. "Today is June second, 2007."

Her breath hitched, and before he knew what was happening she was full-out sobbing.

Dammit Paul. You're shit at dealing with women, you know that? He berated himself. He set the brush aside and uncrossed his knees so his legs wouldn't dig into her back then reached around and wrapped her in his arms. "Its over now. She's gone. She'll never come back. I promise, I'll find a way to get you back to your life. I'll do whatever you need."

"I didn't have a life when it happened." She whimpered miserably, between heaving breaths.

"Then you'll be a part of mine." He answered simply, and held her as she cried herself to sleep.

OoOoOoO

He wasn't surprised that her rest was fitful. When she woke with a start, he murmured a quick reassurance and rose to bring her some lunch. He still wasn't sure how he could help her gain weight faster. Like he told Emily, he could catch animals and had a small garden in the back, but surely she would need some kind of vitamins? She just looked so frail. His thoughts traveled back to Emily and her offer of help...in La Push, and then to the scent he crossed this morning. Bella ate quietly while he lost himself in thought, her small bites surely not contributing much to her overall health. He would have to figure out better options for her, and soon. He didn't think she'd react well to a lecture on supernatural secrecy yet, but he had to do something more for her. Should he ask about family? Probably not, she didn't seem to have had much going right for her, judging by her earlier comment. She stayed withdrawn the rest of the day, only providing short answers if he asked her how she was doing. After dinner she went straight to her bed, lying facing away from his corner of the room. Paul decided to let her be. She had enough to work through without him pestering her or trying to drag out more information.

OoOoOoO

The middle of the night found him by her side again, hand clenched tightly in hers as she was attacked by her dreams. She wouldn't wake and he was almost positive she was starting to run a fever. He got her a cool damp cloth for her head before returning to her side as she thrashed against her sleep demons.

"No! Don't hurt Jacob! Please don't hurt... My fault. Paul." His ears perked at hearing his name though he was still concerned with getting her temperature down. She squeezed his hand again. "So warm. Wolves so warm."

His heart froze in his chest. Wolves. Did she know what he was? Or could she possibly know the other wolf, the one he scented this morning? Her mumbling ceased after that, but the fever did not. He tended her dilligently throughout the night, refreshing the cool rag in the stream each time it began to warm, but he could see no improvement. Around dawn her body started shaking. It was enough to rouse her from her slumber.

"Paul," she croaked, never opening her eyes. "I don't feel so good." He stroked the damp hair back from her forehead, beginning to panic when he realized she was hotter than ever. "Paul, I'm so cold." She whispered and then opened her eyes.

Paul fell headlong into the depths of her luminous chocolate eyes. Anything he was before - was no more. He felt as if his very soul were rearranging itself around her, an invisible cage of protection.

She was the most important creature in the world. How had he never seen this? He was hers. He knew it to the very core of his being. He would follow her anywhere.

He sucked in a heavy breath. She was his everything - almost instantly somehow, and she could very well be dying. No price was too high anymore. He must do what is necessary.

He stood, driven by an unknown force and doused the fire. He rifled through the bag of Bella's things and got her an outfit together. "Bella...Bella, sit up please." He urged gently. "We're getting out of here. You're sick and I don't know how to fix it," he admitted to the bleary-eyed center of his universe. "I'll find you someone who can though. Come on, let's get you dressed."

He pulled out a pair of the new underwear and handed them to her, along with a bra.

"I'll turn around."

And turn around he did.

He heard her shuffling weakly, putting on what he assumed were the underpants. He then heard her remove the borrowed t-shirt.

She huffed in exasperation a short time later. "I can't get it." She told him. "My hands keep shaking and its all twisted and..." She sounded close to tears again, so he took a chance and turned back to help her. He kept his eyes locked with hers, enjoying the fact that she had finally really looked at him, even as he wondered why it had caused such an all-encompassing depth of feeling to erupt within him. He guided her hands gently, noting how little control she seemed to have over her movements, causing him to become even more desperate to get her help. Without asking, he also helped her with her new pants and shirt. He then tenderly put socks and shoes on her feet.

Slinging her bag across his back he took a deep breath and said, "Bella, I'm going to have to ask you to trust me. I think I know of a place to take you where we can keep things quiet. If for some reason things don't go as planned, I promise I will get you out of there. What do you say?"

She looked up at him with quiet eyes. He felt as if she were taking his measure, making judgements. She finally gifted him with a small smile and said, "I trust you, Paul."

OoOoOoO

He carried her easily through the woods. He spent much of the trip contemplating the words she had uttered during the night. Did she really know what he was?

Bella slept deeply, her head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of the tension riddling him from both his fear for her health and for the unknown situation they were walking into. Having her resting against him calmed him on a deep primal level, but it was not enough to erase the strain of knowing that what they were doing may not be completely safe.

The path of the unknown wolf was still clearly marked through the forest. It didn't take him long to realize that, ironically, both of his options lay in the general direction of La Push. He hadn't set foot within its boundaries since that day. The day he was ripped and torn and made anew. He still would never have considered entering La Push again if it weren't for the girl in his arms. Her temperature by now was far too close to his own.

His unease skyrocketed when he picked up - not the scent of just one other, but many others. So, he was far from unique, but that did not guarantee he would be readily welcomed.

Bella never woke for lunch, so he didn't stop until he reached the outskirts of the reservation and, luckily, a pay phone. Paul fumbled a few coins out of his pocket while balancing Bella with the other arm. Hesitantly, he dialed the number Emily had given him just yesterday.

"Hello." A gruff voice barked out.

Paul tensed, just now remembering the man waiting on Emily in the parking lot, the one who reeked of power. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Hi, I'm...well I don't think I actually told her my name, but I was trying to reach Emily. She have me this number yesterday and said I could call if I needed any help with my...friend."

The line was silent for a moment too long and Paul was beginning to think the man had hung up on him.

"You're the wolf." The man finally stated carefully.

"Yes," Paul admitted, "and my...friend...is sick. She's running a fever and she needs help but I can't, she can't..." A growl broke free of Paul's control as the seriousness of the situation and his lack of capability to handle it began to smother him.

"I understand." Was the astonishing reply, the words more than enough to shock Paul out of his quickly mounting tension. "Where are you now?"

Paul distractedly provided the name of the small store he was standing outside of. Just what did the other wolf understand? He didn't have time enough to contemplate that now. The voice on the line told him he would be there to meet them in less than two minutes.

Sure enough, before the specified time had elapsed, the man emerged from the tree line along the side of the store. He's one of the wolves, Paul realized suddenly when the breeze blew from behind the stranger and his brain recognized the scent of the man before him. He fought hard against the urge to growl at the approaching man.

As it was, his body trembled with suppressed rage. His inner self demanded he defeat this threat to his chosen one. His neck bent against his will, sheltering Bella further as his arms firmly encircled her wasted form protectively.

The man clearly saw the fire in Paul's eyes and, true to his word, he seemed to understand. He did not approach Paul, but stood a comfortable distance away.

"I mean no harm to you or the girl. You are welcome to bring her to the home I share with Emily. Just after your call, I was able to contact a local woman with medical training who is familiar with our...conditions.," he stated, raising his eyebrows slightly to be sure Paul had caught the underlying message. Paul nodded, but he was curious as to whether he would be able to share Bella's entire story - as far as he knew it anyway. "This woman," Paul asked cocking an eyebrow, "she believe in vampires?"

"Yes, she does." The man answered in a somewhat bewildered tone. "Follow me."

They cut quickly through the woods again and soon came to an older, obviously well-kept home.

"You can use the spare room." The man motioned and Paul thanked him quietly as he shuffled into the narrow hallway. As he carried Bella past, Paul startled and tensed at the gasp that tore unexpectedly from the other wolf. He crushed his desire to growl at the man as he gently laid Bella on the soft cream bedspread.

"Paul," she whispered, as she made contact with the mattress.

"I'm here," he reassured her. "We're getting you some help, remember?"

"Thank you, Paul." She said softly and then she was out once more.

He bent further, low enough to brush her cheek with his nose, unconsciously drawing a deep breath of her scent before he remembered his audience. His muscles went rigid once more and he turned slowly to face the man who had not breached the room, but rather stood eyes wide and mouth slack. The man's widened eyes shifted from Bella to Paul and then back to the girl on the bed. "She's alive," the man breathed.

"You know her?"

"Yes, we all thought she was dead."

OoOoOoO

"Paul, we need you to tell us what you can about what has happened to Bella, so that we can treat her as effectively as possible," Emily spoke gently as she bustled around, helping Sue Clearwater unload her medical supplies. Emily had come home to find that the girl involved with the rogue wolf was, in fact, Bella Swan who had been missing for the past year.

"Paul." Sam rolled the name around in his mouth, his memory connecting the man before him to the well publicized incident 7 years ago. Paul tensed, suspecting the other wolf would remember his name. They were in the same grade growing up, though both their bodies and faces had changed dramatically after becoming a wolf. Their bodies had reached full maturation at that point. "Paul Lahote." The man finished.

Paul could see it coming. Now they would help Bella - they were apparently friends - but they would want to send him away. Well they had another thing coming.

"If I leave I'm taking her with me." He growled, vibrations wracking his body as he fought the change. No one would separate him from Bella. No one.

"Leave?" Emily squeaked, confused by the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. "Why would you leave?"

Paul was distracted by the guileless confusion in her tone. He shifted his glance from Emily to Sam. Sam, he was positive,  
could figure out the reason.

Sam merely held his gaze, his eyes calm and untroubled. "I know," he acknowledged simply, "and my invitation stands."

Paul felt like he had been punched in the gut. He couldn't even process why this man/wolf would want a murderer in their home, around his fiancé. Paul's eyes widened slightly as he looked upon the stoic wolf. Sam gave him a small nod and Paul's over-stressed mind finally realized what he had been looking at every time he'd looked into Emily's face. He had looked at her, but sever SEEN. The marks on her face weren't just similar to those of a wolf, they were FROM a wolf.

He stored that information for moment and calmed his mind enough to supply the women with the information they needed. He told them when he had found Bella and where. He told them the miserable conditions of the cave, the injuries to her body and what he had done to treat them. He didn't share any anything she had told him or any of the phobias she had exhibited, he would wait for her permission.

"Well that's plenty to deal with right there," Sue exclaimed briskly as she set to work.

She pierced Bella's skin and attached her hand to a tube. "She will need more than just fluid, but I need to get her started on something. She's severely dehydrated," the woman continued talking as she worked.

"Luckily I've treated her here on the reservation before, so I know she's not allergic to any antibiotics." She turned a calculating eye to Paul and stated in a no nonsense tone, "You need to prepare yourself to share young man. Bella is a well-loved person around here. Plus, I'm dating her father, and there's no way in hell I'm keeping him out of the loop."

Fantastic.

I felt my lip curl in response to her words, but I held my silence out of respect for the work she was doing for my Bella. I gave her a terse nod to acknowledge her warnings and she resumed her work, drawing blood, checking vitals, and making notations in a folder.

After many minutes she sighed and sat back. "That's all I can do for now. I'll run these samples by the clinic and pick up more medication and nutritive supplements." She sighed. "And break the news to Charlie." She stood from Bella's bedside and approached me with no fear or hesitance. With a sad smile on her face she reached up and touched her hand to my cheek. I tried not to flinch away from the contact.

"Thank you Paul. Thank you for bringing her home." She told me as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'll be back soon," she assured us before she whisked through the doorway.

I dropped into the plain wooden chair that had been pulled to flank Bella's bed by Sue during her examination. My heart was so heavy with worry, I was afraid I might go crazy. Bella was still running a fever and was still asleep. The tube in her hand was an ugly reminder of how ill she was, that and the obvious emaciation I had become somewhat accustomed to seeing.

"Bella." I whispered to her as I pressed my cheek into her hair, which had spilled across her pillow. "Please get better."

I was perilously close to tears when Sam cleared his throat behind me.

"There's more you need to know." He stated. His look implied whatever he had to tell me was important, so I reluctantly stood and followed him to the kitchen.

He sat down at the sturdy table and once I had done the same he tossed a muffin three times larger than any I had ever seen and commanded me to eat. I looked at him like he was crazy.

"You're not as bad as her by any stretch of the imagination, but you both need to eat. Now get going on that."

The muffin tasted even better than it smelled.

"First off, her father knows everything. So you don't have to worry about hiding anything from him. Second, I am pack alpha."

He had my undivided attention at the word pack.

* * *

As I mentioned above, RL is rocky right now and I can't make any promises about updates. A couple of weeks will tell us most of what we need to know, but the news will either be really bad, or somewhat less bad. Either way I will try my best to escape when possible and play in the world where I can actually control some things. Thank you for your support readers! Your comments really give me something to look forward to.

Apologies for potential mistakes. I'm sure they're in there!


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